The last day I took off from running was December 27, 2009. Two days after Christmas, along with the rest of northeast Nebraska, my family’s rural homestead was pummeled with a blizzard of nearly record-breaking proportions. Because my right knee was relatively shaky anyway, for two days I substituted a token, hip-deep slog through the wind-whipped snow with eight-hour shoveling marathons.

By January 1, I was back in Boulder, where I embarked on a six-month stretch of training that, for me, has really been unprecedented in its overall mileage, vertical gain and sheer consistency. This weekend, I imagine I will break my running streak exactly six months after it began—on June 27, 2010, the day after this year’s Western States 100.

While I wasn’t thinking specifically of the WS100 as a definite race goal and the focus of my training at the beginning of the year, it was certainly in the back of my mind, mostly because it’s been there in some form for the last decade. I’ve wanted to race 100 miles—and the WS100, in particular—ever since Scott Jurek notched his first win there as a 25-year-old rookie in 1999. This weekend, I’ll finally get to stand on the starting line in Squaw Valley and compete in the storied event.

When I had that initial inkling of running 100 miles, it was primarily because, in my mind, people who run 100 miles were accomplishing an outlandish feat. Now, with three 100-mile finishes behind me, I know that, with the right type of preparation, I am able not only to make it to the finish line, but also to be competitive at the front of the pack.

The sport of racing 100 miles on trails through the mountains is still quite young, and, as a result, competitors’ strategies, techniques and schedules of preparation vary widely. While my approach to preparing for 100-mile trail races is certainly unique to my personality and geographic location, I think it still follows a few core principles that can be easily generalized to appeal to a wider audience.

When I am training specifically for a big event, first and foremost, I like to keep it simple. This isn’t some flippant, disingenuous statement of faux-indifference regarding my performance and the outcome of the race. Rather, I believe that reducing the complexity of a training program enhances the overall preparatory experience for me and promotes consistency, which I believe to be the single most important element in any serious training program.

My physical preparation for the past six months has been nothing if not consistent. Of the last 25 weeks, all but three have been over 100 miles—usually way over 100 miles, with an average of 144 and a high of 208. The three “down” weeks were the result of my slipping on an icy street in March, aggravating my sacroiliac joint and taking one week to recover, and then two easy weeks after the Miwok 100K in early May.

Mileage, however, is not the only training parameter in which I have exhibited high levels of consistency. Living in Boulder means that I have had nearly immediate access to trails with big vertical gain—typically about 2500 feet of climb in only 2¬–3 miles—and my personal penchant for gaining a daily summit means that I have placed a particular emphasis on uphill and downhill running during this cycle. Since January 1, I have summited one of Boulder’s more than 8000-foot backyard peaks a total of 191 times, with 176 of those summits being of 8144-foot Green Mountain, whose trailhead is a convenient 20 minute jog from my apartment.

Obviously, running up and down this mountain has been the very backbone of my training for the past six months, and for good reason: It neatly fulfilled the majority of my training needs.

First, running a familiar route repeatedly makes it easier to be consistent in my training. This winter, when I was waking up every day in the cold dark to get a run in before class, I knew I was going to be running up Green, and skipping that initial step of indecision about the day’s route made it easier to roll out of bed and get going without hesitation.

Second, a daily climb and descent of nearly 3000 feet from my doorstep means that, for the past six months, I’ve been conditioning my quadriceps to withstand the legendary downhill pounding of the Western States 100 course. Thus, I was following the rule of specificity, which requires simply that one do things in training that will specifically emulate the demands of a given race course. If I were preparing for a flat, paved course, I would’ve incorporated more of those types of runs into my training. If my goal race were held at high altitude, I would’ve been making frequent forays into the high country in order to acclimate. The key is to match one’s preparation as specifically as possible to the conditions of the goal race.

Third, and possibly most important, I really enjoy running up Green Mountain. The rhythm of the climb, the literal and figurative high point of the summit, and the fast-paced downhill all combine to create a run that makes it easy to return to day after day, thus promoting consistency, but also keeping the bulk of my training fun.

Beyond a daily ascent of Green, really my only key session for a 100-mile build-up is the weekend long run. Incorporating these into my training is simple logic: If I’m expecting to be able to run all day during a race, I need to practice that during training. These runs are important opportunities for working through fueling and hydration challenges and callusing the legs and mind to the sustained hours on the trail that are inherent to ultra running. Many runners prefer to accomplish this through a series of “training races,” but I’ve found that my competitive nature is too strong and I’m not disciplined enough to run an “easy” race. As a result, I prefer to do a long run on my own instead of setting myself back with the extended recovery time required after a true race effort.

This year, I started with four-hour outings in mid-March and lengthened that to a maximum of 8 ½ hours in early June. I view this really long run in the same way that a 1500m runner might treat a snappy set of 400m repeats—it’s a crucial element, but it makes me fit very quickly and I can’t schedule one too many weeks in a row before the effort becomes destructive.

Finally, there were, of course, a few elements of this training cycle’s preparations that weren’t much fun. In keeping with the theme of specificity, for the past month I’ve been emphasizing heat acclimatization. This has meant spending five to seven mentally grueling hours per week sitting in a sauna and timing my second run each day to take place sometime during the peak heat hours of 12:00–2:00 p.m., usually coinciding with a mid-day lunch break. Additionally, in a quest to keep my legs healthy, I was receiving nearly weekly acupuncture sessions for much of the past three months. While surprisingly effective, I’ve found that acupuncture can definitely entail some considerable discomfort.

In the end, though, I am going into this weekend with confidence because I know that, for the first time, I’ll be racing 100 miles with a full six months of uninterrupted training. And by the time Sunday arrives, I think I will have earned that day off.